


Worthy of a kiss

by galient



Category: Spirit Animals - Various Authors
Genre: Animal Traits, Banter, Blood and Injury, Crushes, Flirting, Kissing, M/M, Might be OOC, Not Canon Compliant, One Shot, Sexual Tension, Sparring, Touch-Starved, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:21:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29912025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galient/pseuds/galient
Summary: Worthy had spent the past few months trying to earn Conor's trust, a morning spar shows he might have earned a lot more.
Relationships: Conor (Spirit Animals)/Devin 'Worthy' Trunswick
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	Worthy of a kiss

**Author's Note:**

> I ended up writing this over a trip from memory lane, and at the time when I was obsessed with this series my favorite character was Worthy. I always had really liked this pairing, and now that I consider my writing.. better than back then, I wanted to do it justice! Lots of love.

Worthy pants, falling back on his heels and feeling his palms scuff against the wooden floor. The polished wood of the training grounds was nicked with blade scars, and Worthy wipes the blood off his upper lip. 

Conor shook his hand in the air, wincing as he looked down at Worthy. "Do you have to hit so hard?" Worthy asks, dropping from his defensive position to hover his thumb over his soring nose. 

"Sorry." Conor says, posture relaxing minutely as he rubs the back of his neck. Worthy attempts to touch the bridge of his nose, before he tenses and releases a small hiss. 

Conor drops down across from him, reaching out hesitantly. "Does it really hurt that much?" He questions, and the sweat on his collarbones seep into his undershirt. Worthy rolls his shoulders back, amber eyes darting so he doesn't look at how close Conor was to his face. 

"You get stronger every time I see you." Worthy tells him, voice tinged with a grin. Conor rolls his eyes, shuffling closer to reach up and cup his fuzzy cheeks. Worthy tenses, feels his eyebrow twitch before he schools his face into an emotionless expression. 

"Does it feel broken?" The blond questions, eyes squinting as he looks at his slightly crooked nose. Worthy tilts his head up, leaning into the boy's touch. Conor ignores it, sliding his hand up and lightly pressing down on the dip. Worthy flinches at the shoot of pain, feels the blood drip down his nostril. 

"No," He decides, licks the blood from his lip. Conor snorts, and plugs his nose for him. "Hold your head back." Worthy leans back, tilting his head backward as Conor instructs. He breathes lowly through his mouth, tail lashing underneath him. 

"Must just be bruising, then." Conor says, blows some air into his face as he sighs. "Brat of Trunswick." Conor murmurs jokingly, and Worthy frowns. It's more of a pout. 

"You're so mean to me, lately." The dark haired boy complains, swatting lightly at his hands. Conor backs away, and Worthy smears the blood on his lip to his cheek as he wipes with his wrist. Worthy sniffs, eyes following as Conor stands up on his feet. "How am I going to wear my mask now?" 

"Oh, come on now." Conor rolls his eyes, a smile pursing his lips. Worthy grabs the warm hand that stretches out towards him, Conor pulling him up with a huff. Conor's hands are rough, worn from wood and war. The loose tank top he wears shows off the inky tattoo of Briggan, spread across the skin of his bicep. 

Worthy pulls his hand away from the other, flexes his claws briefly before he plugs the blood flow again, eyes narrowing as the soreness blooms. Conor leaves his side in favor of the bench, grasping his water canteen. Worthy joins him on the birch bench, stuffing a handkerchief around his nose from his satchel. 

A couple years ago, if you'd told Worthy he'd be struggling not to stare at the scrawny blue eyed servant gulp down water who was racked with lean muscle and scars, he would probably kill you on the spot. Conor leans over on his knees, shooting him a shy smile before he shakes the canteen in his direction. Worthy shrugs, and their fingers touch as he grabs the container. 

"You've gotten faster." Conor says, as Worthy drinks down his own fair share of water. He tries not to think about how Conor's lips were just drinking from the same canteen. Worthy caps it, and passes it back to the blond. "Yeah?" 

"Only a little." Conor giggles breathily, stores away the metallic bottle. Worthy sniffs dramatically, ignores the way his nose stings afterwards. "Truly insufferable, you are." 

Conor slaps his arm lightly, "Hey, I was being nice, cat boy." 

Worthy narrows his eyes, "I thought we agreed not to mention that." His traitorous tail curls around Conor's wrist. He ignores that too. 

"I never agreed to anything." Conor says. 

"I _will_ put my mask back on." Worthy threatens, and Conor hums, hair behind his ears falling forward slightly. "No you won't. I made sure." Conor points discreetly at his nose, still leaking red blood. 

"So that was planned." Worthy accuses, and Conor glares. Their knees brush against each other, and their hands rest a few inches apart. Worthy is acutely aware of it. 

"I'm the insufferable one?" Conor deadpans, and the blue of his eyes gleam in the window light. Worthy nods. "Why else would I hate you?" 

"You don't hate me." Conor points out, and Worthy is immensely glad they've gotten close enough to joke about this. "You're right, but sometimes I wish I had the energy." Worthy sighs, leans back against the wooden walls. 

"You know I can unaccept your apology, right?" Conor says, voice dangerously close to a threat. Worthy tenses, eyes wide. "You wouldn't! You love me too much." 

Conor huffs and leans forward enough so his head hangs between his legs. The dramatic idiot. "Why are you being annoying all of the sudden? Is it because I made your nose bleed?" Worthy beams, looking over the other seriously. 

"Yes. Feel guilty so I can have my way with you." 

Conor sits back up to look at him. "No thanks." 

Worthy groans and slumps against the bench. "Damnit, I miss when you didn't have a backbone, and when you were a dumb weakling." Conor rolls his eyes again, seeming to straighten briefly. 

"I've literally always been taller than you." Conor says, sadly but truthfully. Worthy bristles, sitting up quickly and turning towards him. "Shut up. Shut up, don't be mean, I will sick Dawson on you." Worthy seethes, heat climbing up his cheeks. 

Conor smiles, endearingly. "I'll tell him you were bullying me." 

Worthy immediately deflates, slowly pressing his handkerchief back to his nose. "You suck. Wolf boy." 

"Cat boy." Conor counters, and Worthy blushes red. 

In all honesty, Worthy is glad Conor is able to banter with him like this. A while ago Conor had resented him, barely considered talking to him after what he had done. Nowadays Worthy found himself speechless at the boy's newfound confidence and kindness, the patience and leadership he exuded was more than enough for him to earn even more respect than he had. 

"You sore?" Worthy asks, and Conor shrugs. "A bit. Always am after hand to hands." 

Worthy brightens as he remembers something, "Oh yeah," he says, "How'd that thing with Meilin go?" 

Worthy is alarmed to watch Conor shiver at the mention, blue eyes darting down to his flexing hands. "It was.. Tiring. Meilin is kind of a..." He trails off, and Worthy fills in the blank. "A monster? An absolute powerhouse? A crazy lady?" 

Conor cringes, glances to him warily. "I guess. I would not say that to Meilin's face, Worthy." The brunette shrugs, looking at him with a toothy grin. "You wouldn't. I'm not a coward." 

Conor furrows his eyebrows, "You aren't?" 

Worthy wilts. Why is he so mean. "Aren't greencloaks supposed to be nice? What is this scam?" 

The blond stands, slinging his brown laden bag over his shoulder. His cloak is tied haphazardly around his waist. Worthy watches him intently. "Alright then, I gotta get goin'." Conor says softly, and Worthy stands up nervously. 

"Okay. Uh." Worthy tries, and Conor raises an eyebrow at him as he fidgets with his fingers. "What?" 

"Shut up." Worthy tells him, and he steps in close. Impulsively, he reaches up, leaning up to cover the two inches the other has on him, and kisses him. His lips taste like book pages. 

It's sudden, and Conor stiffens. Its short, just enough time for Worthy to realize how much he just fucked up. Worthy pulls away, wrangles all his stuff into his arms, sweaty and terribly anxious as the blond stares at him with wide blue eyes. Worthy shoves on his mask, which bumps his nose painfully. 

"Um, bye!" Worthy calls, and stumbles in a catlike grace as he races out of the training room. Conor stays rooted to his spot, thankfully, and Worthy's face is hotter than fire as he avoids the halls he knows Conor would travel down. 

Conor jolts, raising a hand to his lips to brush away blood from the corner. 

"Wait, what?" 

**Author's Note:**

> They're about 16-17 here btw! Not canon compliant.


End file.
